Path of Recovery
by Z.A.G
Summary: Zack thought he would just accept death outside of Midgar. In his last final moments a glimmer of hope comes to save him. Now on the path of recovery he faces the pain and torment, but he doesn't have face it alone. A second chance at life is presented.
1. Prologue

Summary- Instead of leaving Zack's body out there to be devoured by monsters and such. In his last final moments he's given a glimmer of hope. Surviving the fight, Zack is going through the path of restoration. The pain, the torment, perhaps it would have been easier to have simply died out there. He doesn't have to face it all alone; however, and he's allowed just one more chance at life.

Author's Note- I do not own Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, or any of the characters.

Release the Pain

So this was it, this is how it's going to end. At least I had managed to save Cloud, that makes me a hero right? He'll remember me, Aerith will remember me. I'm alright with this. I never really thought about what death would be like, I always thought maybe it would cause you to think about everything you've done, all those precious memories you've gathered up. That whole white light at the end of the tunnel scenario? Complete bullshit. I don't see a damn thing. I think I preferred it when it was raining, at least then I could feel something; it may have been cold and wet, but it had been a sensation. Now I'm just numb.

The last thing I saw was the sky before vision seemed to just decide that enough is enough. I never did get those wings, that freedom. Wings symbolize freedom. Where had I heard that before? Angeal and Genesis believed it to be a symbol of a monster. Those wings, I wanted them. Such a pity I ended up like this, I never got to see my parents again. Nor am I able to keep that promise that I shared with Aerith.

"…Zack."

Hmm? Who's there? What's that rumbling? Or is that more thunder? Perhaps it hasn't finished raining after all. Guess I'm having one wish come true. Is someone poking me in the neck? I think I still can feel, here I thought that I was completely numb, guess I still have some blood flowing in my body and not out.

I think the most undesirable thing to happen at the moment is for me to move. Really, it was a pain just to give my final farewell to Cloud, and I think I pretty much zapped out any strength I had left just to do that. You would think people would be considerate and just let me die in the most comfortable way possible.

"Ughnn.." I don't think that helped letting them know that dragging me is uncomfortable. Well, there is some good news about this all, I guess I won't be left out here for the vultures to pick away at, or any other type of monster wanting to eat at my flesh. Can't exactly defend myself and it's a miracle that I've been left alone for this long.

"Fight it Zack."

Heh. This person doesn't know what it feels like to have several gunshots to the chest. Not to mention I just fought an army of Shin-Ra soldiers. I think I did enough fighting for one day. I'm just so tired, just want to rest. I think I deserve it, I've done all I can. Does this person think they can save me? I'm usually optimistic about these things, but I also know my limit, I'm pretty much screwed. If I was going to be helped, it should have happened during the battle, not after. That would have been useful.

How does this person know my name anyway? I might be able to recognize the voice if it didn't sound like a voice passing through a wall. At least I have enough sense to figure out the words and their meaning. Why is that thundering getting louder? Is the storm that close? What does it matter anymore? I paid my dues, and fought with all that I am, it's time to rest.

Beautiful angels, I'm yours to claim.


	2. The Awakening

The Awakening

The first things that he started hearing is not birds chirping, music playing, or people singing. Nothing as happy as that; after all, this isn't a fairy tale. It's the sound of something he can't quite place his finger on. A constant buzzing in his ears that he can't be sure is an actual source or just his ears messing with him; however, the fact that he hears something speaks volumes to him. He's alive. He's _alive_. He has to think it through more than once to just to make sure he isn't being stupid and imagining things. Then he has to tell himself that if he thinks he's imagining things, that alone should be enough to know that he's alive.

He never was the brightest crayon in the box; always opting to take action rather than think things through logically. When you pretty much given up any chance on survival and actually accept the fact that you're going to die, it comes to be quite a shock when you manage to survive.

He tries opening his eyes, a feat much more difficult than it should truly be. It seemed like the muscles in his eyelids are just as sore and tired as the rest of him. He has to find out though, he has to see to truly believe; he needs confirmation on his survival. So he forces them to cooperate with sheer willpower, despite the fact that he has next to none at the moment; but, that is slowly building back up back the second as well.

Hazy, clouded ceiling, plain white, minus a few water stains that sat in the center of the ceiling, meet his eyes. He stares at it, thoughtless, for quite some time until his eyes begin to hurt. Not from being opened for so long but for starring at something so bright and unfocused. It seems like he hasn't opened his eyes in days because he's having issues with adjusting to the light in the room. Which is strange considering it looks quite dark, minus the soft glow of the small lamp in the corner, giving barely any light in the room to begin with.

He tries to turn his head but lacks the energy to do so; he just moves his eyes to try and figure out exactly where he currently is. The walls have the same shade as the ceiling, so they have to be white as well, and he's happy he doesn't have full lighting because all that white may very well blind him. To his left stood a machine buzzing softly, beeping every now and then. He tried gaining more focus on the screen in an attempt to read the numbers on it, but couldn't see anything minus blurred out lines. He knows what the machine is, and it also explains the buzzing he had heard upon waking up.

He took note of an IV attached to it with a tube leading down towards him, undoubtedly he has a needle in his arm or elsewhere. It's not filled with blood, which means that he's already been giving a blood transfusion or two, so he can't be sure what it's doing for him. Logically, if he thinks about it, it would most likely be antibiotics to ward off infections.

Behind the machine is just a wall, it has a window but drapes are drawn and blinds are closed to keep out the sunlight. If there is sunlight, he can't tell if it's night or day since it doesn't seem to allow anything to seep through. Not your average looking drapes for a hospital room either, it looks like it has flowers printed on it, or something in the shape of flowers. Again he can't really tell at the moment, his vision isn't cooperating with him, and there's the whole issue with the lack of proper lighting.

With his investigation with the left side complete, he rolls his eyes to the right side. A chair is sitting next to the bed, it doesn't look particularly comfortable either. Worn, wooden, and splintered chipping away off the edges. It's seated at the side and facing him. It's empty at the moment, but Zack can guess that there has been at least one person sitting in it; otherwise, why is it there in the first place?

A plain dresser sits against the far wall with a mirror resting on top of it. The surface of it is clean and bare: no pictures, jewelry, pictures; nothing to hint at where he is. He's now convinced; however, that he isn't in a hospital bed, which is good news and bad news. Good news because that means he's not somewhere that Shin-Ra will be able to track him down and finish the job they started. Bad news because he is weak, helpless, and in a strange place. He doesn't know who is taking care of him, or if they want something in return. If they do expect something in return he'd gladly pay it; it's the least he can do, they did save him. He's not some jack ass who just plainly thanks someone for help and walks off. His mother raised him much better than that.

His eyes drift back to the ceiling, finished with his investigation. He can't really see the whole room without moving, and movement doesn't seem like a choice in the moment. If he could move, he would have already started scratching at his body. It seemed like anything that can possibly irritate the skin is attacking him at once, it's annoying as hell, but he can't very well help himself either.

'Okay Zack.' He thought to himself, not trusting his voice enough to be able to speak, '… as hard as it is to believe, you survived. Obviously you're dealing with serious injuries, but you can live through them too.'

He had been aware since he woke up that his body is in a lot of pain. Not to mention that breathing seems to hurt a hell of a lot at the moment. He was pretty sure when laying on the cliff that his lungs had been shot. 'They must have missed one.' He thought to himself humorously.

Sweat beaded across his entire face and he blinked it out of his eyes before the salty perspiration could irritate his eyes. He has enough irritation happening on the rest of his body, he doesn't need an excuse to mentally whine about not being able to rub at his eyes.

'Wonder how long I've been out.' He wouldn't be surprised if it's been a whole day or two, he did take quite a beating out there. Then again, he has to remind himself, he'd hate to see the other guys. He'd smile at the moment if he could, but even his face feels so numb and sore at the same time that he doesn't want to try any unnecessary movement.

'I'm hungry.' He glanced around briefing with his eyes again for something remotely interesting to look at, '…And bored. I wish there was a television on in here.' His list of complaints are already forming in his mind. He has absolutely nothing but his own thoughts to pass the time with. That's not something someone who has an attention problem can do quite easily. Especially when he can hardly sit still most days.

'Wonder if Cloud made it to Midgar.' He let out a long breath as he continued starring at the ceiling. In his mind he envisioned Cloud succeeding to reach Midgar; however, at the same time something also dreadful lurked in the back of the Ex-SOLDIER's mind. 'Hope he's recovered from the Mako poison… Hell I hope he can take care of himself out there.'

One would probably find it strange that he's more worried about someone else than himself while in the position he's in. The way Zack sees it; however, is that his current predicament cannot be helped. That and he just always put other's wellbeing before his own to begin with. Again he let out a long breath, finding it easier to take slower, longer breaths than normal breathing habits.

'Wonder if Aerith is doing alright.' Mentally he smiled at the thought of the girl in the Slums. 'Wonder if she's still waiting for me to come home. Still tending to those flowers, selling them. Man… I still have to fix that wagon, don't I? Hopefully she found someone to help her with it. Or maybe she found some other way to carry them. Better yet, I hope she actually is successfully selling them. Then again, maybe she has better luck selling flowers when I'm not around.'

He thought about that for a moment or two. It's true when he thinks about it, if she sells them alone he can imagine guys would line up and purchase them from her, with hopes of obtaining her name and number at the same time. That thought worried him a bit, some of the men in the Slums aren't exactly safe to be around. 'Hopefully she can keep away from them until I get there.'

He also hopes that she hadn't completely forgotten about him yet. It would not do if he had come all this way, gone through everything he has gone through, just to find her with someone else. At the same time; however, he would not blame her. It has been years since he's last spoken to her, or contacted her. Even if it didn't seem that long ago to him. He had been in a test tube for quite some time, unaware of time, or anything else for that matter.

'If she's still waiting, I'll have to make it up to her. Take her to a nice place for dinner. Maybe I'll even show her what the sky looks like.' He always hoped that he'd get to show her the sky, she said she's afraid of it, but that's silly. He knows that if she saw it, she'd know how beautiful and wonderful the sky is, and the endless possibilities that it truly symbolizes for life. Better yet would be to show her the sky at night, show her the stars. The sky is beautiful during the day, but at night it almost seems magical in a sense.

He let out another long breath and almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a door opening. He tries to look to where he believes the door is, but can barely see with his head leaned back so much. He hears the sound of the door shutting once more and soft footsteps echo in the room; informing him that the floor is made of wood based on the sound the heels make when falling on it.

Long brownish red curls are the first thing to catch in his vision; a familiar sight. Soon he can make out a face, and the unmistakable color of brown eyes, with a tint of red that matches the hair. He hears her place something down on the chair, her head remaining tilted to the point that her hair covers her face from the current angle. The sleeves are rolled up on her Turk uniform as she reaches down. The sound of water splashing into a pan rings in his ears before she reaches her hand up while holding a cloth. Her face turns to look at his while she's about to pat him down. Her eyes lock onto his, and she freezes in her movement.

He just continues to stare at her just as she does to him. He would smile like he always does, and would probably laugh at the expression written across her face now that she realizes that he is indeed awake. To be honest, he isn't as shocked as you would think to find himself under the care of Cissnei. Not to say that he isn't shocked at all. Shin-Ra wants him eliminated, but along the way the Turks, or more specifically, Cissnei, had helped him escape up to the point of the cliff.

It only seems natural that she would come to him if she caught wind that the subjects were found by the army. She probably had been flying a helicopter and heading his way even while he had fought. At least he doesn't have to worry about being cared for by some strange weirdo. Cissnei will at least, try to keep him safe, and the knowledge of his livelihood out of Shin-Ra's network. At least, as long as she possibly can. Hopefully he will be fully recovered and able to defend himself when the time comes.

Getting over her initial shock, she placed the wet cloth on his forehead. He feels the cool water in it, and feels relieved that the cloth is there. He tries speaking, but can't force himself to utter a word. A sound escaped, incoherent, or croaked. Almost like he had just choked something down.

Cissnei just shakes her head at him, her facial features flat and unreadable. Just like a Turk. "Don't speak. Your in no condition to do so."

'Your telling me.'

She patted the sides of his face with the cloth to gather up the perspiration that had been gathering on his face before rinsing the cloth in the pan of water again. It returned to his forehead, much to his satisfaction. He kept his eyes trained on her; after all, she's much more interesting to look at than the water stain on the ceiling. He watched as she dropped to her knees beside his bed instead of just moving the pan off the seat and sitting in the chair. She can be weird at times.

"You were out for almost five days." She stated, answering one of his unspoken questions. "We had a doctor from the slums come in and tend to your injuries. It didn't look like you were going to make it the first two nights." Any emotion: grief, sadness, anger, or concern, that she may feel at the moment he couldn't see or hear. Turks are masters at hiding things, emotions included. Most people just think Turks don't have emotions. Zack knows better.

"You'll probably be bedridden for awhile. At least until you get your strength back. You'll need to go through some therapy as well. That's what the doctor said, if you survived that long. You have a fever but you don't have infections, probably from the rain that night."

This is why Zack always liked Cissnei, she always seems to know what to answer without him ever asking the questions. Maybe it's because she's the mother hen of the flock from the Turks, but whatever it is, he's just happy that a lot of his questions are being answered. It's obvious that she had been the one to get him off the cliff and get medical attention. The fact that she said 'we' leads him to believe that one or two other members of the Turks may have helped her, unless she knows Kunsel and winged him in the effort to save him.

"You won't be given any more pain medication, you've already been given too much." He figured that was the case to begin with, "You'll just have to toughen it out for a day or two. Shouldn't be a problem for a SOLDIER."

He almost rolls his eyes at that, but thinks better of it. He can only just stare at her and listen, rather than voice any of his thoughts, despite his need to crack or joke, or make a jest for her own behalf as well as his. He's the type that likes to have humor in life, in any given situation. Life is too short, and his almost ended.

She just stares in his direction, not exactly at him; almost like she's seeing through him. He could just be too zonked out on whatever medication has been given to him already though, "It's good you're awake though. That's a big step in surviving."

She stands up from her spot on the ground and grabs the cloth from his forehead before dropping it back into the pan. "You need to focus on resting and only that." Her arms cross over her stomach, her hands holding onto her elbows, "Don't try to move or else you'll tear the stitches, and I won't be too thrilled to be dealing with you bleeding all over my bed." Her brows shoot up as she gives him the 'look' that tells him that hell will be paid if he disobeys her rule.

She picks up the pan and makes to leave. She stops at the end of the bed; however, and Zack locks his eyes with her once she glances over her shoulder at him, "I'm.. happy that you're fighting to survive Zack. I thought I lost you there for a moment." With that she takes her leave, allowing him to be alone in the room once more.

'…I'm still hungry.' He thinks to himself miserably. The only sympathy he gains his the machine beeping at his side.


	3. Cleaning and Feeding

Story alert is like the new review on this site or something. Dx Lots of story alerts, but no reviews lol. Well that's a change of pace for me. Well I'll just take it that I have the characterization down since no one has complained that it's off, so that's a good thing. Anyways, I hope you are all enjoying the story thus far. I'm just happy to be writing it to begin with. Anyways, here be the next installment.

Cleaning and Feeding

Much hadn't changed in the four days since he had awakened from his so called 'comma' Zack realized why he hadn't been fed, apparently his nutrition had been getting pumped into him by the I.V. How that is supposed to sustain him he would never know, and he watched as the bag that the grants him all his nutritional needs slowly but surely emptied.

In the last four days Cissnei entered several times each day. One would just to check the equipment that he's hooked up to. Second would be to give him pain medication during certain intervals during the day; which, has come to be his favorite time of day because the pills were strong enough to take some of the pain away and then dope him up enough for him not to care about the rest. He knows it's something that would be bad to be addicted to, but he'll deal with that bridge if he ever crosses it. When you suffered from several gunshots in the chest then you can lecture him.

Occasionally she would enter with a cloth and a pan of water, patting his face to wipe away any sweat, dried or fresh, clean from his face. Other than that, he hardly saw her, but it's not like he would expect to. He hasn't said anything since he's woken up, unsure whether or not he could, or if she would hit him if he tried. He's still worried about his condition concerning his lungs. Breathing hurts like hell, and makes it difficult to sleep at night unless he gets more pain medication.

He also hasn't moved from his spot on the bed; for any reason-- at all. It frightened him when he begins wondering why he hasn't had the urge to use the bathroom yet; then he thinks himself lucky because he isn't sure if he'd manage to get there, let alone get the deed done. He would like a shower though; he isn't one who goes days without one, and he's very conscious about his own personal hygiene. Even if he's restricted to a bed, he still would like to be fresh and clean. Just throw him in a tub and if he can't support himself which in turn, leads him to drowning, then so be it. At least he'd end up dying clean.

In the back of his mind, he kicks himself for not staying unconscious while his body healed because these last four days, to put it in light terms- sucked. The highlight and most exciting moments of the day is when Cissnei walks in to check up or go about doing the routine movements. Granted there's very little, if any, interaction between the two of them in terms of words. She may say something, comment on his condition, or ask him if he's in pain; which only involves a brief nod or shake of his head. Oh yeah, he can kind of make some movements now- Ode to Joy.

So four full days, in pain no less, have been spent starring at the naked bare walls. He's grateful for what Cissnei is doing and everything, but she could have at least put him someplace interesting. Or given him a television, or maybe a book. Yes, he does read on occasion when the situations warrants it. He may have an attention span but a book would be eternally grateful instead of being left laying in bed with nothing but depressed looking walls acting as his only counsel.

He let out a hard breath, blowing hair out of his face, a habit he's picked up recently-- some days he'll even make a game out of blowing a strand from one side of the face to the other. All in the name of entertainment. His eyes twist downwards when he hears the sound of the door opening. He can't see it, but he waits for her to come into his line of sight regardless. Her appearance is a little unusual, as Zack had, in the last four days, basically mapped up a 'Cissnei' schedule in his mind, for which times she enters and which times she leaves. This of course, all mentally timed, he doesn't even have a clock in this room.

Regardless, if his calculations are correct, and he's pretty sure they are since he's always been good with calculations, she is early. Thirty minutes give or take. When she reached the side of his bed his head turns to the side to get a better look at the object she's holding in her arms. A white box. A white medical box to be exact. His eyes shoot up to her face in question.

Cissnei for the most part, just lets her brows raise the slightest, as if expecting him to say something to her, "Need to change your bandages sometime." She informs him. Which he reckons would be a good idea since she hadn't done so since he has woken up. He just gives a brief nod to let her know that he's ready. Not that he'll be doing anything, but it makes him feel at least not completely hopeless; although, knowing Cissnei, she'd change them with, or without his permission.

She sets the medical box on her makeshift work table, which she opts to never sit on, before grasping the end of the blanket covering his form. With the care of a mother tending to her sick child, she gently pulls it off of him; causing him to immediately feel a few degrees cooler. His arms remained firmly at his sides, bruises and welts marred across his skin from the back of his hands leading up to his shoulders. His chest has several white bandages taped to it, and the rest of visible flesh is covered with bruises and burns from the battle. Not to mention old scars; granted he had prided himself in not having that many. Seems he's making up for all of them now.

He didn't say or attempt to do anything, he just merely keeps his eyes on her movement. He watched as she brought a hand up to rub behind her neck as she starred down at his form. He never looked at his condition in his free time, he knew it would look bad, and he didn't want to know the extent of it. Her brows drew together in concentration before she reached down to work on getting the first bandage off.

Nails grazed lighting against his sore chest before peeling back the tape that holds the first bandage. He took note of the fact that she's trying her hardest not to put any pressure on him so not to irritate his body. At the same time however, that grazing of nails and delicate touches isn't exactly the greatest thing either. He happens to be ticklish; especially at his sides, which happens to be the bandage she's working on currently.

A pained chuckle escapes his lips as Cissnei tries to grab the edge of the tape. The Turk shakes her head lightly as a brief smile crosses her lips. "Sorry." She says in ways of an apology before she manages to take the second bandage off as well.

Zack shakes his head, "…so'kay." He practically croaks out the first word spoken by him since awakening. His eyes wander down her arms to focus on her hands working on another bandage on his chest. He makes a conscious effort to keep his eyes on her hands and not allow them to take note of his condition. After a while, temptation grew too much so he averted his eyes completely to cast it away.

Cissnei's own eyes wander from the task at hand to his face, sympathizing with him. She had taken notice that he didn't ask about his condition or look for himself either. Nor has she entered the room in time to see him checking out his injuries. This either meant he doesn't have the strength to lift the covers off himself, or he's afraid to find out. She guessed on the second part and by the looks of things, she guessed correctly. "How are you feeling?" It was the first question she asked that didn't wager a yes or no answer.

He pauses for a moment to think upon the question; although there really isn't much to think on it. In truth, he's just preparing himself to speak. Seeing how she asked a question that actually warrants his opinion, that meant she won't beat him for speaking. Rule you learn about Cissnei- follow orders. She has a habit of making you feel like an idiot if you go against them and end up in trouble or the victim of Reno's many jokes. "…Quite seriously injured." He coughs, his throat rough and unaccustomed to use after so long. His voice isn't as cheery and carefree as it always sounded. Deep, rough, and broken.

Again a brief smile crosses her lips as she removes the last bandage. Her eyes drop down to the bullet wounds; a moment passes before her brows draw together once more. Confusion inching its way onto her face for reasons Zack is unsure of. She shakes her head once more before straightening up, grabbing the used bandages. "Wait here." She says before making her way towards the door.

"Like I have a choice." He tried to joke, a light one, but it comes out roughly and again he's forced to cough from the irritation in his throat. He waits only a few minutes before she enters again, one hand holding a familiar pan, the other holding a glass of water. His lips twist into a half smile and light goes into his eyes at the sight of the drink. '_She read my mind' _He thought happily.

He lifts his head up, hell bent on changing his position to sit up; however, the moment she places the pan of water down, she pressed the three fingers in the center of her hand against his forehead, "Stay down. I don't want you moving." She orders. She just raises one brow up at the pout he tries on her, informing him that it wouldn't work. Leaning over a little, she brings the glass to his mouth and tilts it the slightest so he could drink slowly. She pulls it away after a few moments, half of the contents gone, and places the glass on the nightstand before grabbing the pan and going down on her knees at the side of the bed.

It is then that Zack realizes, that she plans on cleaning him, or at least, wiping him down. He just prays that she doesn't plan on doing a thorough cleaning job. That would be a blow to his pride big time. Luckily she seems to be focused on his chest, and he wagers a guess that she wants to make sure it's clean before she bandages him up again. "…Any news on Aerith?" He asks the question that's been digging in his mind for the last four days.

The Turk pauses in her work to glance up to his face, speculation passing through her eyes as she stares at him. The moment fades away and she places her focus back at the task at hand. "She's fine. Still living with her mother and selling flowers on the street."

"Oh yeah?" His voice went up a octave or two due to his excitement, almost sounding like his usual chirpy self in that moment. He's glad to hear that she's still selling them, and glad that she is actually managing to sell them by the sounds of it. He hesitates a moment before his next question, "Does… she know where I am?"

Perhaps the question had been stupid to ask, because when Cissnei raises her head to look at him, she has the most blanked out expression anyone can manage. No emotion, no expression, simply a blank solid stare right back at him. "Do you see her here?" As if that's answer enough. She places the cloth back into the pan and grabs the medical box, resting it on the edge of the bed to make working easier.

"…So where exactly am I?"

"My house." It was quick, sharp, and abrupt. He's beginning to think that Cissnei isn't in the mood for conversation, but he's been stashed away in one of her rooms for the past nine days hidden from the world like he's some dirty little secret. Five unconscious days, and four completely bored days.

"What about Cloud?"

"Who?"

"My friend."

"The infantryman you were with?"

"…Yeah."

"Oh, is that his name? No word."

Zack blinks at that. Didn't they have files on the two of them when they were hired to go after them? Something seems odd that she would play off as not knowing his name, but then again, maybe not. She didn't know he was one of the subjects that had escaped until they met on the shore that night.

'_No word is good word.' _Zack reconciles with himself while Cissnei silently presses a fresh bandage to one of his wounds. It simply means that Shin-Ra hasn't found him yet, dead or alive. If he were dead though, they should have found his remains by now. This means he's hiding. Relief washes over Zack's form at that knowledge, '_He made it.'_

Once the task of reapplying bandages is complete, Cissnei stands back up on her feet. Her arms cross over her stomach before she stares down the injured man occupying the bed. It feels like minutes to Zack before she speaks, "Shall we try actual food today?"

"I swear, you're reading my mind!" He exclaims, although happy with the prospect of actual food, "I'll take a double cheese burger, extra bacon, no onion. And fries dripping with gravy."

He brows shoot up at the order, amusement dashing through her eyes before she shakes her head at him, "I already have something made for you."

"You cooked for me?" He teased lightly, a smile crossing his lips, "Well, in that case, I'll take that."

She started towards the door, waving her hand behind her, "You didn't have a choice in the matter."

"Uh.. Is it good?"

"I don't know. You'll be the one finding out though."

Something tells him that Cissnei isn't necessarily the type that spends a lot of time in the kitchen. Now that he thinks about it, he's never once heard anyone talk about her cooking, or using a microwave, or heard any stories about cookies she may have baked. Should he even trust what she brings him? It's one a minute or so before she's back in the room, holding a bowl in her left hand and a spoon in her right hand. She lowers onto her knees at the side of his bed, "Open wide." She almost chimes, and that brief smile crosses her features once more.

"What the heck is that?" He blinks at the contents in the bowl. "That's not food, that's… goop." Indeed that's what it is. It's a liquefied bowl of one thing or another. To Zack it looks like mashed potatoes mixed with a lot of water. It has some sort of solid masses in it, very small, and covered in white goop, which makes it unidentifiable.

"Don't complain. I'd rather you not choke on solids."

"You sure this isn't like… a drink of sorts. Creamy oat smoothie or something along those lines." He lips cringed together and his head turns to the side to get away from the oncoming spoon. "It doesn't even smell like anything."

"Just eat it. It'll do you good."

"I don't wanna."

She raises a brow at that. Zack whining like a child isn't exactly uncommon, but even after all this time of knowing him it's still a weird occurrence to see a grown man actually sound like a four year old. Mix it with his latest injuries, across his body and face, then you have something bizarre. Almost like a monster trying to pass as friendly to a child. "Do I need to use the airplane technique Zachary?"

Zack turns his head back at her, amusement written across his face, "Well, if you want--" She shoves the spoon in his mouth, and he almost chokes on it. Once she slides the spoon out Zack rolls the contents in his mouth, "You went a little heavy on the garlic." He says after swallowing the contents.

"It spilled." She tries as excuse before shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

Again he takes time to taste it and sort out what it actually is. He swallows again before adding, "Cauliflower? Mmm I think there's some nutmeg in there. That's strange. Did you make this from scratch?"

"It was in a box." He doesn't believe her, and she shoves another spoonful in his mouth.

This time he received one of the small unidentifiable chunks that is floating in the mushy concoction, "Ah, chicken. Nothing has the healing powers like chicken."

"Very observant of you." She comments, although there's amusement in her voice that makes him wonder if he may have guessed it wrong. "Are you going to continue to decipher the soup?"

"This is soup?" He almost laughs, he would have if it hadn't been for the spoon being forced in his mouth, and practically down his throat. "Rosemary, salt, a hint of pepper." He thought for a moment before opening his mouth once more, waiting for another taste. He receives it and Cissnei just continues to stare at him, "I'm guessing it's not milk you used. It's not water, nor is it cream." His lips contort and a grimace, "Did you use that dry milk in a box? The junk you add water to?"

"Guilty as charged. Now just eat it." He sensed that he's getting on her nerves. Perhaps she's a bit touchy about her cooking? He can't help it though; he was presented with a strange goop, so he needs to know what it is. "Keen sense of taste you have there, by the way. Didn't think SOLDIER would affect senses that much."

Zack laughed only a little at that, "It doesn't. I used to cook with my mom all the time. I happen to be pretty good in the kitchen." If she got put down by his apparent superior culinary skills, it doesn't show on her face. She simply nods her head briefly as she sets the empty bowl aside. "Stay away from dry milk, and it would have been something other than chicken and goop. Although you need to stay away from garlic. That stuff overpowers the taste of anything."

"Garlic is good with anything."

"Oh." Cissnei is a garlic junky. Who would have ever imagined that? He always imagined she'd be the type of who enjoys the plain bland taste of cardboard. Nothing as sharp and overpowering as garlic. Zack likes garlic too, but it's only an ingredient you should use sparingly, and with only certain dishes.

"Can I have a television?"

"No, I don't have one. And I'm not buying one. Unless you want to pay for it. You'll also be paying for cable as well."

"How about a book?"

"No books."

"You don't have any books?"

"I don't use this house often."

"Still… no books? Not a single one?"

"No."

"How do you not have a single book? Hell a cookbook would be fine." Suddenly he grinned at that, "Then again, if you had one, that goop would have been something."

She crosses her arms over her chest and a single brow raises; daring him to try to continue knocking her meal. "I can leave you to starve if you would like." She smiled slightly at the idea, and Zack came to the conclusion that he wouldn't put it passed her to do such a thing.

"So no book, and no television. What am I supposed to do for entertainment?"

Her shoulders gave a brief lift as she shrugged her shoulders. She picks the bowl up and heads towards the door once more, "Use your imagination Zack. You have an overactive one to begin with."

"How come you never wear anything else than your Turk uniform?" She pauses at the door and looks over to him laying in the bed. One brow raises once again, a clear motion that questions him 'why?' He has the urge to scratch the side of his head but goes against the process, it's hard kicking a habit, especially when you're not purposely trying to.

"Well… I never seen you wear casual clothing. Are Turks not allowed to wear casual clothing even off duty? The only time I saw you wear something else was at the beach in your swim suite." A sly look works its way across his face, "I wouldn't mind you wearing that. But that suit doesn't look comfortable at all."

If he got to her in any way, you wouldn't know it. She still had that blank, no emotion Turk expression that she perfected over the course of many years of training. That takes the fun for Zack out of a lot of things. He always wonders if she's even capable of embarrassing her, or causing her to blush. It had been sort of a game between the two of them back when he was still in SOLDIER, so far he's failed and she's come out on top with each round. Looks like this one is included.

"Get some rest." She comments before opening the door, not bothering the acknowledge the conversation. It's usually how the game goes anyway, so he takes no offense. "Oh." She pauses once more, suddenly recalling something important, "You were wrong, by the way. It wasn't chicken."

"It wasn't?" That comes as a surprise to him. He had been so sure he got everything, "What was it then?"

"Cat." With that she steps out and closes the door.

"You killed a cat?"


	4. Bathroom Break!

It's just a short bleep of a chapter because I had a random fun idea. xD

_**Bathroom Break!**_

Zack wasn't sure what he was going to expect when he woke up that morning but he knew why he woke up earlier than normal. It was a very embarrassing thing, but he hadn't gone to the bathroom for days and he wasn't sure how he had managed to go without doing any of that thing. It might have been some sort of miracle medicine in Cissnei's goop, or soup as she prefers to call it. The moment he opened his eyes and into the world of blurry vision he had someone looking over him. Red hair that at first he fooled himself into believing was Cissnei's but once his vision cleared up, Zack knew, without a doubt, that he was looking up at a Turk that was not Cissnei. "Well waddaya know, he's alive." He heard that familiar voice and it still had that cocky egotistical ring to it that only Reno of the Turks could pull off on a twenty-four-seven basis.

Needless to say, Zack just about did his business right then and there with Reno hovering over him but he didn't want to lose all the dignity he had. "How did you find me?" Zack's first initial response was. He hadn't seen anyone other than Cissnei at this time, and now he was worried that the other Turks had found out Cissnei's secret and were here to finish him off once and for all. What did they do to Cissnie? Did they get rid of her? Kill her? Lock her up? Surely they wouldn't have been happy to find that she was housing a fugitive and nursing him back to health after ShinRa had hunted him down for so long and gunned him down outside of Midgar. He resisted the urge to grab the blanket and pull it over his face like a child hiding from the boogeyman.

"Who do ya think carried your fat ass here, slick?" And then he sported that sly smile once again that always made Zack feel like he was inferior to the Turk. How could someone manage to make someone feel in such a way with just a mere look? It was like they had some sort of psyche training to get to you without saying a word. The message was clear enough and Zack had to take a moment to puzzle everything out. Maybe all the Turks were helping him? He couldn't really think of any reason why Reno would help him though because he hadn't really gotten to know the man, he had barely talked to him. He only encountered the man less than a handful of times. So why he had actually gone and extended a helping hand in his recovery just seemed odd. Unless Tseng was watching his back from ShinRa and ordered the Turks to help him. Tseng really was a hard person to read, he wasn't sure if the man had actually cared about his well being or not; he wasn't even sure if Tseng viewed him as a friend like Zack viewed Tseng.

"You carried me?"

"Nope! Rude did. But I supervised."

Zack rolled his eyes upon the response. He hadn't known Reno very well but he was notorious for being somewhat of a slacker. It was infamous but second to his reason of being even more popular. He was a womanizer. Not just any womanizer though, he was the womanizer who everyone knew was a womanizer but yet often bedded with him regardless. He was a heavy drinker but still could walk straight after a night of drinking, and still brings a woman to a motel room to finish off the night. Zack could only wonder how many things the man was actually carrying from all his encounters with strange women but he didn't have the nerve to ask such a question when he was in such a condition.

"Where's Cissnei?"

"I dunno."

"What do you mean?"

"She rang to get my ass over here, I got here, and she was gone." The Turk shrugged his shoulders and straightened up from the bed. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lit up a cigarette. He ignored the fact that there was a man who could have gotten shot in the lungs by him, or the fact that he was still trying to recover. The way Reno's world operated was if Zack Fair was living after this long, then he'd be just fine and in a way, Zack felt the same way. He just didn't like the smell of cigarette smoke. "Probably wanted to get her ass away from you for once."

Zack would have been a bit too embarrassed to ask for Cissnei's help. But Reno may very well be a blessing in disguise. A very well designed disguise at that. He was a man, Zack was a man who couldn't do anything on his own for the most part. Men were to help each other out when they were in need. So maybe Zack could even wing a shower out of Reno. Not a shower with Reno, but getting into the bathtub and letting Zack take care of the rest; although, Reno would probably make some smartass remark about Zack just drowning himself in a shower. It was still worth a try.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Zack finally said when the cigarette was smoked halfway.

"So go?" Reno gave his response. Zack simply stared at the Turk from his position and the complications behind that message clicked after a matter of moments. "Oh shit, right." He didn't give any sympathetic look towards Zack, in fact, Reno looked more amused than anything else. Apparently the misfortune of others was amusement to him. Then again, if Zack had to take a wager, he would assume it was due to the type of work Reno was in. They were designed to bring misfortune to people so the people best qualified for that type of job would be the type who could find something good out of doing it. He had to wonder how if Cissnei was actually the same way, and Tseng for that matter. Tseng would be a bit stranger to believe considering he was sort of like a rock. Nothing chipped his cold surface.

"Can you move?"

"I don't know."

"Will you pop your stitches?"

"I don't know."

"Can you wipe your own ass?"

"…Yeah."

"Well, then. Let's get to it."


End file.
